


La Reine

by larryent



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Bottom Louis, Crimes & Criminals, Crossdressing, Donna Louis, Exotic Animals, FBI Agent Harry Styles, Feminine Louis, Fluff, French Louis, French Zayn, Italian Mafia turned French, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Louis in Lace, Louis in Lingerie, Louis in Panties, M/M, Murder, Organized Crime, Smut, Top Harry, Violence, crossdresser louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:10:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14029863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryent/pseuds/larryent
Summary: In Los Angeles, the garden of evil, there was a Queen. La Reine was what they called him. He lived in his beloved kingdom, La Puissance, in the middle of the land of gods and monsters. He was the ultimate power and everyone else is just a pawn.ORThe one where Harry is an FBI Special Agent chasing down the infamous Mafia Donna of La Puissance, a man who he knows as "La Reine" who is just too clever.larryent December 2018





	1. 1. "Menteur un jour, menteur toujours."

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS:  
> > violence in detail  
> > murder in detail  
> > and a bunch of other illegal things  
> > louis in panties  
> > LOUIS IS A MAFIA LEADER  
> > feminine!louis bottom!louis donna!louis  
> > top!harry FBIagent!Harry  
> > kinky ass smut  
> > inspired by Lana Del Rey lyrics  
> > i obviously don't know anything about law or mafias BUT I WILL TRY MY BEST TO HAVE NO INACCURACIES (meaning I'm going to do research)
> 
> Special thank you to Rosiane (@peacies) on wattpad for being my translator for this fic !

"P-Please! I'll get your money!"

Louis sighs, slowly shaking his head and leaning back into his large velvet and dark wood throne. "I am not stupid, Gregory. You swore to me that you would get me my money last week." The Donna drags the tip of his knife along his thigh, where his dress rid up. "And, when I sent my people to retrieve it, your filthy apartment was empty." He tsks.

Louis clenches his teeth and tightens his hold on the diamond handle of his knife, " _do not_  think we are blind. We watched you leave your apartment earlier today with bags  _and_  my money." The Mafia Donna traces the engravings of the handle of his prized blade, ' _La_   _Reine_ '.

"I had people watching your every move even before you made your first deal with me." Louis slips his knife into the holster of his tight black dress. The clothing fell to his thighs and clung to his body like a second layer of skin. His tan skin contrasting with the pitch black latex and every curve of his figure outlined flawlessly.

" _Ma_   _Reine_ , I promise you'll get the rest of your money," Gregory begs, the sweat dripping from his forehead and soaking the front of his shirt.

"I do not believe I can trust you, Mr. Gregory." Louis singsonged as he stands from his red throne and begins walking towards the nervous man with powerful strides. "You have... ten grand in that bag. That's just a fifth of what you owe me." He cocks his hip to the side and lifts up his leg to land a swift kick to Gregory, sending the latter falling to the ground. "But, you lied. Do you think I would trust you again?" He keeps his foot on the man's chest.

Gregory doesn't answer, only breathes heavily as his eyes shoot between Louis' blood red heel and the man himself standing above him. With Gregory's silence, Louis pushes his heel into Gregory's chest, his shoes are specifically designed for himself—the heel being shaven off and replaced with a mixture of gold and silver. They were his favourite because they were the sharpest. "Mr. Gregory, would you trust yourself?"

The man groans in pain, his brown eyes squeezing shut as the sharp heel pierces through his skin. "No, but you got your money." He answers through clenched teeth.

The Donna adds more weight onto his leg, pushing the point deeper into the man. Louis was born and raised with pain and grew a tolerance—as he watches Gregory scream in pain, he smirks. "And, why not?"

Gregory coughs up blood, choking and looks up at Louis with watery eyes and bloody lips. "Once a liar, always a liar." He utters.

 **"** ** _Menteur un jour, menteur toujours_** **."** Louis echoes and slams his foot down. Gregory spits up more blood and the red liquid spills onto the floor. Satisfied with his deed, Louis lifts his heel and returns to his throne, grabbing a towel from one of his men and wiping his shoe clean. He takes the cigarette offered to him and brings it up his lips, "Zayn, débarrasse toi du corps. Je ne veux pas reconnaître ce connard quand tu auras finis."

 _"Zayn, get rid of the body. I do not want to recognize that asshole when you are finished."_  
  
  
  
  


"Agent Styles!"

The red and blue lights are bright, reflecting off every surface and the wet concrete. Five police cars and a couple news vans are scattered along the closed-off street. Harry ignores the questions shot at him and jogs over to the other agent after showing one of the officers his badge. He pulls his coat tighter around his body and runs a hand through his hair. "Is it another body?" He inquires.

The buffer man nods, a grimace on his face. "Third one this month." He moves out of the way but after one glance, Harry is gagging and bending over. Liam pats his back comfortingly, "absolutely brutal, right?"

Harry spits on the ground and nods, suddenly feeling nauseous. "That's in the top five for me." He takes a deep breath and asks, "is it the same suspect?"

Liam raises an eyebrow, "don't you mean suspects?" He glances at the reports a few feet away and pulls Harry towards the side of the road. He leans down and puts his hands in his pockets, "it's a whole mafia responsible for these murders, Harry."

"I know that," Harry huffs and crosses his arms. "And, I also know that they're just listening to their leader."

"You know that isn't true." Liam accuses. "A mafia is a family, and no one in that mafia is innocent." Liam states, " _La Puissance_  is the kingdom of crime. And, everyone in that family would kill for each other—and die for their leader, die for their Queen."

The taller man slowly nods in agreement. Harry knows of  _La Puissance_ , but who wouldn't. It's the mafia responsible for most of the organized crimes in the Northern Hemisphere for the past couple years and is the strongest and largest mafia in the last decade. And it's estimated that they bring in well over 450 _billion_  dollars a year.

Harry also knows the reason why not one member of the infamous mafia hasn't been thrown into prison, and it's one word: money.  _La Puissance_  doesn't work against the government but with them, and if anything, the leader bribes the government.

In all of Harry's years of experience on the job, he has never come across someone who just does not exist. No files, no records. Not even  _la Reine_ 's family history was recorded on any sort of database. It isn't possible how one whole family tree could have no records at all, they're practically just a myth. The mafia had to be started by someone, and from what Harry was told; it always had two people running it, a Don and a Donna. Never had there been one leader until now, yet the mafia was at its highest in its entire reign of existence.

Harry has also seen their Queen, only in the three pictures ever taken of him. All are from a distance and the most recent is from least two years ago. No one has attempted to snap a shot of the mafia Donna in fear of what happened to the last risk-takers. All three, brutal deaths.

In the pictures, the Donna has sandy brown hair, high cheekbones, thin pink lips, prominent collarbones, and striking blue eyes. He also has one teardrop tattooed on the right side of his face, and one diamond always placed in said teardrop. It was small but glimmered in each of the three photos.

The man himself was like a dream, an aspiration. Harry would consider the Donna to be one of his own dreams if he weren't responsible for the death of hundreds of citizens.

To Harry, the worst thing was that no one knew his name. Bringing up the illusion of the man not being real at all—it can be considered that something without a name doesn’t exist.

No one knows the Donna's name, and everyone just calls him  _La_   _Reine_.


	2. 2. "God is forgiving."

"Are you both okay?" Harry asks immediately after the call is answered.

"Harry, you call every day." His older sister's voice sounded exhausted. "Mum is at work and I just got back—we are fine."

It was like this every day. Sometime after lunch, Harry would leave the bustling office and go into the secluded hallway, he would call his mother or his sister. They call him paranoid and he calls himself good-natured.

"Okay, okay." Harry hesitates. "I'll let you rest. Love you." He pushes off the wall and straightens his button up.

"Love you too, H."

Harry's breathing is calm as on his way back to his desk. He passes by the washroom just as Liam comes out. The latter smiles kindly and greets, "oh, hey, Harry. Good that you're here, I have to show you something." He waves. "Follow me." Then, Liam is walking off.

Harry follows, his dress shoes clicking on the linoleum floor and stuffs his hands into his pockets. They reach Liam's desk and the latter sits down before shuffling through papers. "You remember that body we found last week, the one on the side of the road?"

Harry makes a face and fixes his tie. "Can't get it out of my head." He felt uneasy remembering the brutally beaten body.

"Well," Liam starts, pulling a single paper from the pile on his desk and reads over it. "The autopsy report came back." He hands Harry the paper.

"Gregory Martin." Harry reads aloud.

Liam clears his throat. "Word on the street is that he was a local dealer." He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. "Only logical explanation is that he pissed off  _La Reine_."

Harry reads over the file but looks down at Liam with furrowed brows. "It says he was stabbed, but they don't know what it was?"

"All they know is that it was sharp enough to puncture through one of his lungs." Liam shudders. "They told me it couldn't have been a knife because it would've left a wound like a line, couldn't have been a needle because it was too thick."

Harry nods once, "what about surgical tools?"

"Maybe." The brown-eyed man hums, "But it's already a miracle they were able to identify his cause of death considering how beat up he was."

"That's the only pattern of the victims." Harry sits on a clear spot on Liam's desk. "They were all murdered in different ways, but they're always hard to recognize when they're discovered. I mean," he pauses, "what's the point of disfiguring their bodies if they're already dead and can't feel anything?"

"Exactly what you said, so we can't recognize them."

"But we can. Technology has come this far and if  _La Reine_  is so intelligent, don't you think he would put more effort into making the bodies completely unidentifiable?" Harry crosses his arms after setting down the paper. "You know, like take out the teeth, burn the body until it's nothing."

Liam is quiet for a few moments, before sitting up, "unless he wants us to know."

"He wouldn't want that. He's clever, not childish." Harry rubs a hand over his face. Every case involving the mysterious mafia was taking a toll on him. "Maybe it was rage, anger. That just means that Mr. Martin did something careless enough."

"Or,  _La Reine_  has anger issues," Liam mutters.

Harry gives him a thoughtful look. "Or, he wants to be caught.. more specifically, chased."

"You think so?" Liam inquires. "Someone with that much blood on their hands shouldn't want to be only one step ahead of cops. Rather, a whole country away instead."  
  
  
  
  


Louis picks up a small vase, smelling the red roses. "You have a beautiful house, Ms. Marlyn. This is what you spent your loan on, isn't it?" Louis tilts his head. "Taking a loan from a mafia. I thought you were smarter than that but I suspect you ran out of your late husband's money." He sets down the vase. "Shame you won't have the privilege of living in this mansion another day." He opens a small box on the coffee table, taking out a small butterscotch truffle and popping it into his mouth.

"I'll kill you!"

Louis rolls his eyes. Her threat meant nothing. "No one would ever dare." He sends a signal to one of his men holding the rope from the second floor of the mansion, and the rope around Ms. Marlyn's neck begins to lift her body.

"Then God will!" The woman shouts so loud that her voice cracks and whimpers against the rough texture of the noose. "God will cast you down to hell."

Louis raises an eyebrow, he's never gotten that before. "I am the most religious person in this room, Ms. Marlyn."

The woman flips her brown knotted hair from her eyes and struggles against the handcuffs behind her back. "Then, why do you kill?" Her brown eyes glare coldly at Louis' heeled feet. "If you're so religious, why do you take life that isn't yours to take?"

Louis smirks as Marlyn yanks and tugs on the cuffs, her breaths coming out hard and erratic. "God is forgiving."

"Your precious mafia won't survive when you're gone." Marlyn spits. "You're only one man."

Louis snaps his fingers, "I have my family, Ms. Marlyn." He leans down, their faces inches apart, "they will die for me, and I for them." Louis steps back and begins walking away, his heels clicking on the hardwood flooring.

"Ironic you say that considering what you did to get where you are," she pauses, "or more importantly, who you killed to get where you are." Her gaze is unsettling as the last string of her sanity snaps. "That teardrop is for him, isn't it?"

The Donna's head shoots in her direction and the rope loosens, Ms. Marlyn's body dropping to the floor pathetically. Through his surprise, he regains composure. "What did you say?"

Marlyn doesn't speak a word, she only smiles and laughs maniacally.

With clenched teeth, Louis calls out, "Zayn lève la."

_"Zayn, bring her up."_

The mafia Donna watches as the rope becomes taut. Marlyn chokes out in pain when she feels her feet rise from the ground. Satisfaction burns in the pit of Louis' stomach as he listens to her suffering—after all, she was the one who took a loan from the wrong people.   
  
  
  
  


"I heard her." Is the first thing Zayn says as he opens the door for Louis and follows after. They walk down the cracked concrete path to the sleek black car parked along the road.

"I thought I destroyed all that evidence." Louis insists.

Zayn shrugs, unlocking the car and swinging the passenger door open. "Maybe you did. But you can't erase people's memories."

Louis takes one longing look at the modern mansion before going into the car. Not a moment later, Zayn is inside as well and silence takes over the interior of the car. Louis reveals a small glimmer of his humanity to Zayn, "it was more than two years ago." Louis breathes out, his voice wavering. "And people are still living in the past." A hard expression takes over his delicate features. "I don't want to ever hear that again."

Zayn looks over at the Donna sympathetically. "And you've come incredibly far—further than what your father expected." He tries to get Louis to look at him, but the boy's eyes are glued on the grey and white house. "Your dad would've been proud of you. Mum too."

Louis keeps his gaze locked on the window.


	3. 3. fascination before fear.

It's been a few weeks since the discovery of the most recent body. The silence on  _La Pussiance's_ behalf was utterly unnerving to the people of Los Angeles.

The last body found was that of Tricia Marlyn—a woman who was on the wealthier side and had a mansion in one of the most luxurious neighbourhoods. It wasn't long before people found out of her disappearance, and as it was for police to find her body. It was still identifiable yet the question remained of  _La Reine's_  true intentions if he continued to leave the bodies of his victims able to be recognized.

On one hand, Harry thinks they should be grateful of no more deaths for the people of Los Angeles. He and his team should rejoice in the fact that  _La Pussiance_  has taken a break on their four-month long murder spree.

In the comfort of his apartment, Harry sits at his desk, rummaging through the drawers before pulling out a package of cigarettes. It was still sealed tight in the plastic wrap and he stared for a moment before putting it back in the deepest part of his drawer. He abandoned his desk covered with files and reports, as his legs carried him to the balcony. Pushing open the two glass doors and allowing the cool breeze of the city to brush along his skin.

On that late Saturday night, Harry later leaves his apartment to get take out from a local diner. Observing the bright moon and cloudless sky, he decides to walk there. It was only about two blocks away and Harry grabs a trench coat before leaving. As he's passing one empty alley to turn a corner to pass another, he doesn't expect to hear grunts and loud shoves. His steps slow down, and his ears listen closely to the noises. Harry walks closer to the corner and peeks around the brick wall, he can only see darkness. Though the shoves and crashes were enough to make him almost step forward, about to stop the fight but a sleek black car drives up and stops right before the alley, leaving Harry to duck back behind the corner before the headlights alert his presence. His peers around the corner again and his eyes instinctively look at the license plate but the car is without one. Then, he looks up at the driver's seat and nearly loses his breath.

Harry immediately falls back and leans against the wall, his blood running cold and one of his hands gripping the handle of his gun that was nestled in the holster.

Right in the driver seat of the large car, was him. His blue eyes glowing in the dim streetlight, lips pressed in a tight line and not an ounce of fear visible on his face. The lone diamond on his cheek shone and glimmered, and that had Harry gulping and cocking his gun. Bracing himself against the wall and craning his neck to raise his gun and point it directly at  _La Reine's_ head.

Harry could kill him now, he should kill him now. Avenge all those affected by the man's horrid mafia.

Harry hears movement from the other side of the wall and feels the unforgiving twists in his stomach as he knew someone was being beaten to death in that alleyway while he didn't make an effort to help.

He had a finger on the trigger, pointing it between  _La Reine's_  eyes, the eyes of a murderer.

"Zayn,"  _La Reine_  leans out the window and blinks slowly. "Hurry up, we have to get back before all hell breaks loose."

Harry's heart racing, pounding against his chest, and his breaths coming out in short puffs. He should pull the trigger, for all those who were lost in the ruthless world of  _La Pussiance_. But his entire body is frozen, he moves no muscle when  _La Reine_  opens the door, he doesn't blink when  _La Reine_  steps out the car in a tight black long-sleeved turtleneck dress and red thigh high latex boots, but does he accidentally kick an empty soda can when he takes a step back, and that's when  _La Reine_  was merely four feet away from him.

The loud sound of clattering metal hits Harry full on, but he presses his back against the wall. Quickly lowering his gun and holding his breath. To his luck, it goes unnoticed by the mafia Donna.

"You know the drill, Zayn."

Harry takes a peek around the corner in time to see  _La Reine_  lighting a cigar, the thick stick between two of his thin fingers as his black stiletto nails drag along the pocket of his dress. Harry swallows, the fear making him feel nauseous.

"Dump him in the trash bin."  _La Reine_ 's voice is like honey, sinking into the deepest parts of Harry's brain. "There, let's go."

Harry's eyes burned after not blinking for so long as he grips the weapon tightly. Unmoving, Harry doesn't know what came over him when he watched  _La Reine_  calmly walk back to the opened car door. The last thing Harry saw of him was his face in the wing mirror of the car.   
  
  
  
  


Harry stands there long after  _La Reine_  drove off into the darkness, he doesn't know when he walked back home, his gun heavy in the holster. He doesn't remember opening his apartment door and going to his bedroom. He falls back onto his bed, the morning sun peeking over the buildings and clouds, casting shadows over the walls of his room.

That was when Harry felt the first tear prickle in his eye, the guilt of letting a powerful and terrifying criminal walk free finally settling. Harry now had blood on his hands, any blood that  _La Reine_  or  _La Pussiance_  choose to shed for the rest of their existence because  _he let him go_ and didn't even dare to report the murder he witnessed in that alley _._ It was a case of fascination before fear.

The dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he hopes that  _La Reine_  didn't see him—but Harry thinks that if the Donna did, he would have shot Harry on the spot.

 _La Reine_  was hypnotizing, he drew in Harry the moment the first case report landed on his desk. He captured Harry's interest when there was barely any known information about him. And the second Harry let  _La Reine_  take another breath, he sealed his fate and that of everyone around him.

Harry was gone, the FBI agent who wouldn't rest until justice was served, the man who would stop at nothing to make people pay for their misdeeds was nowhere to be found. Harry disappeared into thin air when he didn't shoot  _La Reine_  at point blank, Harry was dead.

That was because  _La Reine_  had Harry.   
  
  
  
  


Harry doesn't sleep at all and now it was officially Sunday meaning Harry had a day off. He chooses to remain in bed, he switches off his phone after calling his sister and puts on a comedy on his television, carefully avoiding the news channel.

Harry spends the day alone in the darkness of his room with nothing but his thoughts.   
  
  
  
  


The following day, Harry pulls himself out of bed. It was Monday and he wants to call in sick and avoid work as much as possible but he turns on his phone again and sees the many messages from Liam, the last one being to check his email. And Harry did, it was an email from their boss saying that there was an urgent and mandatory meeting scheduled for that morning.

So, Harry showers to wash away the guilt. He lathers his body in coconut-scented lotion and combs his hair before putting on his grey slacks and black button up. He eats breakfast, a simple little sandwich that he barely finished because the sinking feeling was making him queasy.

He couldn't go to work, to a place where they enforced justice and pretend that he didn't let a most wanted criminal get away. The remorse was eating him alive, reminding him of his sin and the fact that he was not the same man he was twenty-four hours ago.   
  
  
  
  
  


"All right, good morning, everyone." A tall man dressed in a fitting dark blue shirt and black slacks stands at a higher level of the office. His coffee mug in hand is steaming as he slowly scans the room. "I see everyone is here, so let's get started." He turns around and signals for the PowerPoint to start.

"Yesterday around noon I received an anonymous letter that I suspect is from  _La Pussiance._ "

Harry chokes on his coffee.

The man presses the remote in his hand as the slide changes. It shows a short body paragraph along with a high-quality photograph of an embroidered piece of fabric sealed tight in a large ziplock. The black and red embroidery of the cursive letters stands out against the white fabric, the ends of the letters looked to be sewn by a professional.

_'Silence is deadly. Fear is power but respect is domination._

_To those who know and who witness, I ask you, what about pulled you to break your oath._

_I write to you as a warning. Keep watch of your mailbox. Or don't, but remember that everything is an eye for an eye.'_

"The fabric had traces of cocaine and just about any drug that  _La Pussiance_  smuggles, though no traces of DNA. As you can see," the slide changes to reveal a zoomed in picture of the quilt, "there is a missing piece in the corner." The very bottom corner of the quilt had a circle burned out, the ragged edges were a black. "The burn seems to be placed right on top of the signature, only being left was part of  _La Pussiance_  as it was only missing letters."

"A cigar."

"Pardon, me?" The man pauses and everyone turns back to see Harry, standing still with his arms crossed over his chest. They hopefully don't see the thin layer of sweat covering his face.

"It's a cigar burn," Harry says clearly even though his mind was anything but.

It was too large to be a regular cigarette burn. Harry knew no one in Los Angeles had the time to smoke a cigar because it took hours. Every day was a rush and everyone in the city was busy. That was, except for one person—the person who wrote the note.

His boss eyes him wearily. "We will test that, Mr. Styles." He leans down and exchanges a few words with his assistant. He stands back to his full height and presses another button on his remote.

"I fear we are being targeted by  _La Pussiance_  now, more than ever. I ask everyone to take caution and more so in your homes. A direct note from this mafia has never been recorded and now that they aren't silent, it seems they have returned with tricks up their sleeve."

Harry has to lean back onto his desk, taking a slow sip of his coffee as he makes eye contact with Liam. The man furrows his brows at Harry's state.

"Anything that appears in your mailboxes or near your homes is to be reported to me  _immediately_. The news has no idea of the quilt and will continue to be left in the dark of such."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but why?" A dark-haired woman asks, she is behind Harry and he has to twist his neck to see her. "Shouldn't the public be aware?"

"If this note is not from  _La Pussiance_  and rather a form of a prank and we blow it out of proportion, we could be targeted to the point of murder rather than just a simple threat as this is."

Goosebumps appear on Harry's skin and, his chest stills as he holds his breath.

"And the public will be hysteric, and I will be questioned by the director of the federal bureau of investigation. We could fear to lose our jobs to this if this is a prank."  
  
  
  
  


The rest of the day, the office is quiet. Like everyone whispers instead of talking and their movements slow as if they're being monitored.

Harry feels the worst of it all. He knows the note was for him, he knows it wasn't a prank and that cigar burn had told him it all. Harry leaves work early, stating he was sick and left before Liam got off his lunch to pester him about his behaviour. The way to his car, he constantly looks over his shoulder, and the drive home is worse as he continuously glances in his side mirrors. He hates the walk from his car to the lobby door, the number of eyes that he could feel on him was chilling to his bone. He quickly puts in his key and swings the door open, walking straight to the elevator and ignoring his mailbox.

"Harry!"

The man turns around and is greeted by the sight of one of his neighbours. She was an eighty-year-old woman, with grey hair and wrinkles, and she had kind hazel eyes. Her name was Selene. She spent most of her days in the lobby on her wheelchair wrapped up in a thick knitted cardigan and always wore a polite smile. She waves Harry over and slips on her glasses.

"Hello, Selene." Harry leans down and kisses her cheek. He's known her since he moved to L.A. She reminded him of his mother deeply. "Is there anything I can do for you today?"

"May you please get my mail for me?" Her frail voice asks. Her hand grips Harry's and places her key in it. "Damn, landlord hasn't changed it yet." She laughs to herself.

"Of course." Harry's done this before. Always helping Selene get her mail from one of the top boxes whenever she asked. She got into an accident a while back and Harry was the first to offer her help, being one of her oldest and most caring neighbours. He takes the key and opens the box, inside there were a couple coupons and flyers, a letter addressed to Selene and one bill.

"How is work, honey?"

Harry freezes, his hand tightening around the stack of papers. "It's going well, nothing much has happened."

"Oh, yes. I was watching the news last night and they said  _La Pussiance_  hasn't had any victims." Selene says. "That's all because of you, Harry. Mr. FBI Agent."

She couldn't be more wrong.

"Well, here's your mail." Harry shuts the box and rolls on the balls of his feet.

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart, Harry." Selene smiles and takes the mail from him before setting it on her lap.

"Do you need help getting to your apartment?"

"I'm fine, dear. I'm going to stay down here for a little while longer and see if the landlord comes down." Selene pats Harry's arm. "I'll keep pestering him about my mailbox 'till he changes it."

After they both say goodbye, Harry descends to the elevator, suddenly feeling better after seeing Selene.


	4. 4. Dangerous Infatuation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-note: thank u to cool20142014 on wattpad (yungsqui on twitter) for co-writing this chapter with me :^)

"On Monday evening, a man who chose to remain anonymous discovered a body in a dumpster in an alley between Spencer Street and Fourth Avenue. The body was that of wealthy businessman, Kyle Portman. Police rule the suspect to be none other than La Pussiance. The mafia responsible for the murders of hundreds of people over the past decades has remained silent for the past two weeks—"

Harry shuts off the television and slumps on the couch. Guilt continued to weigh heavy on him, making every moment he spent awake suffocating.

 

 

The next day was Monday. It was a gloomy morning with the fresh scent of rain seeping through his opened window. Harry wakes up to a soft patter of rain and pulls himself out of bed. He feels particularly awful today and has no choice but to call in sick. His boss seemed reluctant to let him off but wishes him a good recovery. Liam, on the other hand, almost invites himself over but Harry has to decline, saying how he doesn't want him to get sick as well.

With his mind running miles a minute and a stuffy nose restricting his breathing, Harry decides that a run will do him some good. He pulls on a pair of gray sweatpants and an Adidas jacket and a grey hat. There weren't many people out today, and the puddles of rain caused him to cut his jog shorter than he usually does but he still enjoyed the sights around him even if it was all somber.

He comes back round to his building and starts shaking off some of the water. When inside the comfort of the lobby, Harry takes off his now wet hat and is greeted by a soft voice.

"Darling, why would you run out in the rain?"

An immediate sense of warmth combs over Harry's body. "Good morning, Selene."

The old woman smiles and gestures him closer. "You sound sick and you're out running in the rain." She tsks, "Your mother would be disappointed." Selene jokes.

Harry chuckles softly, looking into her kind eyes. "Would you like me to get your mail for you?"

Selene beams. "That would be lovely. The landlord said he will change it next week. Hopefully, he isn't lying this time."

"Fingers crossed." Harry takes the keys from her frail fingers and opens the mailbox. Plenty of envelopes and a newspaper welcome him.

Then he spots something that isn't junk mail. It's a bright red envelope with his name in black cursive ink on the front. A cold chill flows through his veins and like a deer in headlights, he freezes.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Selene's tone pulls him out of his daze.

Harry turns to Selene, "Would you mind if I took this?" He holds up the red envelope. "It has a coupon for protein powder."

Selene smiles and wrinkles form at the corner of her eyes. "Of course. Go ahead, dear."

Relief fills Harry as he hands Selene her mail and holds the red letter to his chest. He bids goodbye to the woman and goes to the elevator. When he gets to his apartment, he sets the letter on the counter and stares at it for a bit. With. Ragged breath, Harry carefully opens the envelope, and reads the perfect black cursive words;

 

_'Dear Mr. Styles,_

_You continue to amaze me. A man of justice and law; letting a criminal walk free._

_You are corrupted, but aren't we all?_

_I see that curiosity gets the better of you—and that is where we are alike._

_We play cat and mouse, but this time, the mouse will be waiting for the cat._

_Triple Tease Nightclub tonight @ 10:00pm._

_Au revoir, mon chat. See you tonight._

 

((Note:: In the game of cat and mouse, harry is the cat and Louis is mouse, so Louis called harry his cat))

 

This is Harry's chance. Instead of feeling uneasy, Harry understands that he can finally bring justice to the city. After everything he's been through in the past few days, he can make things right. He wasn't going to let this dangerous infatuation take him. The smallest part of Harry was still fixated on the Donna—and that part may prove to be more powerful than Harry suspects.


	5. 5. Kitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to cool20142014 on wattpad for helping me write a bit of this chapter.

" _Ma Reine_ , the agent has arrived."

Louis sets down his drink and peers through the two-way mirror that stretches over half a wall. Among the dancing bodies and flashing lights was the agent, he stood out like a sore thumb. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise." The Donna chimes. "My lovely cat has come to play." He sends two of his men to get Harry, and Louis watches like a hawk when the stoic man is led to the very back of the club.

The room was a mix of gold and purple. A shiny glass table pushed in the very corner and the three walls had perfect straight paintings hung up, each in its own individual gold frame, contrasting with the deep purple walls. Harry is nearly blinded from the several spotlights shining from the ceiling. Harry is pushed onto a velvet violet couch and stops breathing at the sight fo the Donna. Harry doesn't understand if it's guilt filling his chest or fear.

"I'm glad you're here." His voice like honey. "I was contemplating if you were coming or not."

"I had things to do." Harry's posture is rigid.

"More important than little me?" Louis pouts, false hurt masking his features. "Did you like my note?"

Harry doesn't speak, he only glares.

"Do you know what I meant by an eye for an eye?" The Donna tilts his head. "You didn't pull the trigger when any other person in your workforce would have. Why?"

Harry visibly gulps. Cold shiver brushes over his skin and goosebumps arise. "I don't know."

"You see, kitten, the world is just a big game of cat and mouse. The constant chase of dreams, of love, of power. A never-ending pursuit to get what we crave to fill the empty abyss."  _La Reine_  licks his lips slowly, his piercing blue eyes glazing over. "A strive for gratification." He reaches into the pocket of his faux fur coat, revealing a silver lighter. A thick cigar is passed to the Donna and he lights it. "I've met plenty of people on their journey of the chase. Some more intelligent than others and the rest of them are just too stupid to realize their mouse is out of their league. You don't seem like either of those people, Mr. Styles." He takes a generous pull of his cigar. "You are running from something." The Donna declares. "Guilt. The realization that you are not the man you want to be."

He takes a long pull and steps to Harry with slow tantalizing steps, his heels clicking on the linoleum floor. "It's tiring, isn't it? Always trying to be a mile ahead of something that's just on your tail." Then, the Donna is only a mere inch from Harry's face, his cheekbones highlighted from the dim spotlights that cast the shadows of his eyelashes on his clear tan skin. The lone diamond on his cheek glimmering. A small smirk crawls its way on his face when he sees Harry's chest rising and falling rapidly, he clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and holds the lit lighter just before Harry's nose. "And just when you think you've finally escaped, it takes a leap and you're caught." He blows out the small flame.

Harry breathes heavily, listening intently. "You know nothing about me."

The Donna laughs bitterly. "Oh honey, but I do. I'm very good at reading people and you're an open book but no one knows a thing about me."

"Then tell me," Harry says, with a great deal of confidence. "Tell me about yourself."

The Donna purses his lips. "I will let you ask two questions."

"How do you, one man, run a mafia that brings in nearly half a trillion dollars a year?”

"In a business like mine, respect and fear go hand in hand. People do what I say because they're scared of what will come to them if they don't. I rule with a gun, not compromise." Harry soaks in his words. "I'm like lightning during a storm—I'm not always there but the threat of me is. And that's enough for people to hide."

Harry shivers.  _La Reine's_  voice was so lifeless, no tone or emotion behind it. Like he had no remorse for his misdeeds. " _La Puissance_  has been around for decades and judging by how old you look, it's impossible to say you've been the only person running it." Harry states. "Your mafia brings in 20% of the country's income." 

 _La Reine_  raises both his arched brows and the corner of his lip twitches into a small smile. "You have been doing your homework."

"Do you have a Don?" The agent asks.

The Donna turns red, his mouth twisting into a scowl. "I do not need a Don. I have been running this mafia for years and I am doing just fine without a Don.  _La Puissance_  may be a world renown mafia with its history unknown but no one will ever achieve what I have." Louis is uncomfortably close to Harry, the heat nearly radiating off his body. "Why aren't you running yet?" Louis tilts his head, eyes glaring before blowing a puff of smoke. "Do I not scare you?"

"No. I'm not scared of you or your mafia."

Louis laughs through his nose. "Cute." Then a buff man walks over and whispers in the Donna's ear. The latter nods and shoots him away. "You can leave now, I have business to attend to."

It was Harry's turn to be angry. He wasn't going to let the criminal get away again, he wasn't going to let the mouse escape. "I'm not leaving without you in handcuffs." Harry stands but two pairs of muscular arms roughly shove him back into the seat, the hands hold him down but the Donna waves the men off. This time, Harry stands without resistance. "You'll be locked up for your crimes."

"Your threats are nothing but words. You're a coward, Harry Styles." Louis says coolly.

"Why don't you take away all your bodyguards and we'll see who's the coward?" Harry seethes.

Louis whistles lowly. "Dominance." He states. "A quality of a cat." Louis glares with a challenging gleam in his eyes. "Knock him out."

Harry feels the blunt force of a gun on the back of his head and falls to his knees, merely stunned but still conscious. He's conscious enough to see his back-up storm the club.

The Donna freezes, his mouth agape as he sees the dozens of men and women aim guns at everyone in his club. He drops to his knees, squeezing Harry's jaw tightly. "Petite pétasse."

_"Little bitch."_

" _Ma Reine_ , we need to go." Multiple hands are pulling at Louis' jacket. "Get up!"

An unreadable expression takes over the Donna's face, the fury in his eyes disintegrating and leaving his eyes empty. "Go."

"But, Louis—"

_Louis_ _._

"I said go!"

Through his blurry vision, Harry can see officers and his team burst through the door, their guns all trained on the Donna.

"Step away from Mr. Styles and put your hands up!" One of the officers shout.

With a taunting laugh, Louis lifts up both his arms. His nimble fingers clasp at the back of his head and he tsks softly. "My, my. I guess my kitten is more of a panther, hm? More clever than shy."


End file.
